


Only by acceptance of your past can you alter it

by annebenedicte



Category: Bramwell (TV), Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio), Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-05 01:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15853404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annebenedicte/pseuds/annebenedicte
Summary: A new Unit adventure with Kate Stewart at the helm . In which she realises the importance of the past and family





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, I assume Kate Stewart has already met the Thirteenth Doctor, since I've already described their first meeting in another of my stories. 
> 
> Title by TS Eliot

 « - Ma’am ? Can I come in?

  * You certainly can, Osgood, and you also may.”



As she saw Osgood’s puzzled look, Kate Stewart chuckled: “Sorry – once in a while my old English mistress pops in my head. What do you want, Osgood?

  * We’ve received an alert from Sector 12. Several deaths over the course of a month.
  * I didn’t know we were moonlighting as coroners… Can you be a little more specific? Hackney is one of London’s most populated boroughs, and I imagine people die there too.”



Osgood fingered her glasses, a gesture which always betrayed her nervousness. She didn’t like playful Kate – it worried her. First because she never knew if her boss was joking or not, and then because it usually meant that Kate was over-tired. Strangely to say, she preferred bad-tempered Kate, because at least then she went straight to the point and didn’t tease. Anyway, the information she had to impart was sure to put a stop to her boss’ ebullient mood. She went on bravely:

“Of course, Ma’am. I have more facts. 49 people have died in the last month – men, women, and two children – in suspicious circumstances. For those forty-nine people, he doctors have not yet been able to identify the cause of death – they are talking about a typhoid-like virus with several mutations.

  * Typhoid fever? Surely not! I mean – I know there have been a few cases in recent years, but they were isolated incidents. And anyway, typhoid is treatable nowadays
  * Exactly – this virus is untreatable, and kills within forty-eight hours. And actually, the symptoms are different too... But the most worrying part is …
  * Come on, Osgood – we don’t have all day.”



Strangely recomforted by Kate’s sharpening tone, Osgood finished her report: “All the victims have seen ghosts – or aliens -  during their last day of life.”

Kate raised her eyebrows: “Ghosts or aliens?

  * We think more probably ghosts. But apparently they’ve all seen the same ghosts. Strange people in Victorian clothing, with bluish -white skin – bluer than normal for ghosts, apparently. And they all said the same thing too: “Now is time to pay, for women in the home should stay, a hundred and twenty years away, death will come and stay”



Kate stood up and sat back again, this time on a corner of her desk: “Are you sure you’re not pulling my leg, Osgood? I know it isn’t April’s Fools Day, but it could be Bait your Boss Day…”

Osgood looked at her reproachfully.

“Sorry, Osgood. I know you wouldn’t do that. But seriously? Blue Victorian ghosts? Cursing and killing their descendants?

  * Yes – it doesn’t seem very likely – but we have signed reports from witnesses, and the doctors’ testimonies. That’s why I said aliens too – it wouldn’t be the first time that they intervened in the past.
  * Right – but I can’t remember any mention of Victorian ghosts in the archives …only “The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.”
  * ….
  * I think I’m being haunted by my old English teacher’s spirit – she was quite fond of Dickens. Sorry again, Osgood. Do we know anymore about the medical aspect? You said the symptoms were different?
  * Yes – from what we know, the victims become listless, a little feverish – and then, in a matter of a day or two, they begin seeing the ghosts and they die.



Kate was now pacing in the office. This was not something which could be resolved with brute force, not that she ever liked that. Moreover, it sounded oddly personal. Somehow the curse rang a bell, but she couldn’t think why. About seventy-two hours spent pouring over ongoing problem files instead of sleeping tended to anesthetize her neurons. The trouble was that with the amounts of coffee she had consumed to stay awake, she didn’t know when she would be able to sleep again.

“Well, let’s have a look at what we have, both on the illness and on the area concerned, shall we?”, she said to Osgood, holding the door of her office for her.

Half an hour later, Kate was not much the wiser. Although all the doctors agreed on the diagnosis “unknown illness with psychological and physical symptoms”, none of them seemed to have any specific idea about the illness. The area itself, Sector 12, appeared normal - the drains, sewers, water pipes all appeared correctly sanitized. The usual controls had been conducted on the housing, and there was no traces of asbestos or other toxic substances.

“Have you run a historical analysis on the area?

  * It’s in progress, Ma’am – we started at the beginning of Victoria’s reign, as the ghosts appear to belong to the middle to end 19th It should be completed soon.
  * All right. Keep me informed – I’m going to get some fresh air – you know where to find me.”



Osgood nodded – the Doctor had once remarqued that an underground base was not ideal, and since then, Kate had found it difficult to stay cooped up under the Tower too long, especially when she needed to mull over something She had found a bench not far from the base’s secret entrance, and she used it as a thinking seat.

After a quick detour to her office to help herself to a few squares of Fruit and Nuts from her chocolate stash, she emerged outside and noticed with dismay that her favourite bench was in full sunlight. Rolling up her sleeves as much as she could, she decided against finding another one, as they were sure to be full of tourists. She quickly ate up her snack, not wanting to go back with melted chocolate all over her trousers. However, it did not give her her usual burst of energy – rather, it made her slightly sick. But then, she’d been feeling slightly nauseous ever since …well, ever since Osgood had told her about their latest situation.

She still couldn’t pinpoint why the curse had an air of déjà vu, though, and it rattled her. What rattled her even more was that she needed a medical expert on that case – and one person immediately sprang to mind – one person she hadn’t seen for …About thirty-years. The one person who might also be able to explain her déjà vu feeling …However,  Kate had followed her career from afar, but their paths hadn’t crossed again, not since that day in July 1987…


	2. Chapter 2

She couldn’t tell anyone... Of course it wasn’t true, but who would believe her? Her interview with the dean had lasted nearly one hour, and she’d bit her lips so hard to keep from crying that she’d drawn blood. In the end, he had seem almost sympathetic, but she could see he thought she was guilty. Anyway, sympathetic or not,  his decision had been incontrovertible – she was out …Out of medical school, out of her dreams and with an indelible black mark against her. The dean had made the facts plain – unless she was able to prove she hadn’t cheated in their latest paper, she wouldn’t be able to re-apply to any med school in the country – nor to any university.

Back in her room, Kate collapsed on her bed and wept for almost an hour. She could see no way out. The worst thing would be to tell her father. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart’s daughter excluded from university? She and her sister had always done their best to make him proud, and this would kill him. She threw cold water on her face to try and hide the traces of tears and slowly made her way to the telephone in the corridor – there was only one person she could tell. However, that one person was probably at the library, because no one in her residence could find her. She hesitated for a bit and then decided to phone her twin’s fiancé. Marcus lived in a shared house, and he wasn’t as much of a swot as her sister – he would probably be home, and would know how to find Berenice.

She was partially right – he answered the phone, and although he didn’t know where her sister was, he offered to come over. Kate hesitated – she really didn’t want company, but he was almost family – he was going to marry Berenice in a month. And he was also two years ahead – he might have ideas about her predicament.

For years, she regretted her decision. Because from that one phone call, things got worse and worse… When she thought about it, she could almost feel Marcus’ hands on her…groping her breasts…His breath on her mouth …his weight pinning her to the bed… All she had done was accept a comforting hug, but he had had other plans… When she’d finally managed to throw him out of her room, he had snarled that if she ever told Bernie, she would regret it. Of course, she hadn’t believed him. Of course her sister would be on her side.

And when she’d finally been able to find her twin, the next day…when she’d finally poured out the whole thing to a strangely silent and forbidding Berenice – the whole mess about the paper and what her fiancé had done …

Kate closed her eyes briefly and winced in pain – the words were engraved into her memory: “How could you? But then – once a cheat, always a cheat, eh? Edward told me everything – how you threw yourself on him. I can’t believe you tried to steal my fiancé and tried to accuse him. Good luck with your f*ing life – and don’t you dare come to the wedding or contact me ever again!”  

Because she couldn’t believe her own twin would take a man’s word against hers, even if this man was going to be her husband, she had obeyed… She also hadn’t told her father about the whole university fiasco immediately – not until she managed to get a job in a café to support herself. Not until after the wedding – wedding which she did not attend, telling her father she had caught measles, which was debilitating when you got it as an adult, and contagious. She just hoped her sister would go along with the lie, because she didn’t want the Brig to know they were estranged. Berenice must have, because she’d never heard otherwise. When she’d finally summoned up enough courage to tell her father about the cheating accusation, he had believed her – taken her side, offered to go and speak to the dean – but she had refused.

It had taken more than nine months for the university to acknowledge there had been a mix-up, and to re-offer her a place. Nine months during which she had managed to engage her life for another nine months, and to give up hopes of becoming a doctor. And just about eighteen months after she’d seen her sister for the last time, she’d given birth to a little Gordon Lethbridge Stewart. The father, a young and handsome French student, had gone back to his country, and would never know he had a son …because they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers or addresses – he’d been charming and handsome, she’d been a little intoxicated, and sure of her birth control pills…

When she’d gone back to university, she had studied chemistry and physics, and after a few obscure jobs and another son,  she had applied for a position in UNIT…Position which had after a few years allowed her to be able to keep tracks on her sister, and to hide her own identity. As Chief Executive Officer of UNIT, she’d become a ghost – no one knew who Kate Stewart really was, except for her staff and her bosses. So even if Berenice tried to find her …she wouldn’t succeed. But why would she? From what Kate knew, she was married to Marcus, had two children, and a successful army career as well as a reputation as a top trauma surgeon. She too had followed in their father’s footsteps, only choosing the military instead of the secret services…

“We have them, Ma’am – and they’re interesting!”

Kate started. She had been so deep into her thoughts she hadn’t heard Osgood come up to her.

“Sorry? What did you say?”

She glanced at Osgood and saw the young woman was almost trembling with excitement.

“Inhaler, Osgood – and then tell me calmly what you’ve found.”

Osgood obeyed and explained: “We might have found an explanation for the location – in the late 1890s – so one hundred and twenty years ago – there used to be an infirmary.

  * An infirmary? You mean a free hospital?
  * Yes, that’s right. The only trouble is that we don’t really have any details, because the records burnt in a fire during World War Two.
  * So when a door opens, another one closes …okay…so what we’ll do is we’re going to …”



Kate didn’t have time to finish her sentence – a bright blue phone box clattered to the ground a few inches from the bench, and a few seconds later, a rather dishevelled blonde young woman emerged from it.

“Doctor! Are you all right?”, asked Osgood as the new arrival put her hand on the back of the bench to steady herself.

“I’m fine – just haven’t quite mastered Earth landing yet. Must be something in the atmosphere – the London smog maybe.”

“What brings you here?” Kate wasn’t sure if she was happy to see the Doctor or not. She still hadn’t gotten used to his – or her – new incarnation. She hated to think that maybe, just maybe she felt more competitive with her than she had before with her male counterparts. However, she had no choice. UNIT would certainly need the Doctor’s help with their latest mission. What puzzled her was that she hadn’t called her.

“Well, you rang, My Lady, and here I am,” answered the Doctor with a wink.

“But that’s just it – I didn’t!” Kate glanced at Osgood and saw the young woman redden. “Osgood? What aren’t you telling me, Osgood?

  * Err…Nothing?”



Osgood was no match for Kate’s stern look, however, and she withered and finally owned up: “I might have sent a space-time telegraph, Ma’am.

  * Without telling me?
  * Err …Yes, Ma’am…I’m sorry – I just thought …well, you were outside, and with the Victorian setting, I…
  * You thought the Master might have a hand in it – and I agree. I encourage initiative, Osgood, but I also want to be kept informed, you know that.
  * Yes, Ma’am.
  * Please don’t forget next time.”



The Doctor was watching them, smirking: “Dissension in the ranks, Kate? There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist, love. If you two are quite finished, maybe we should get on with it? If one of you care to explain why I’m here?

Kate blushed – she hated to be seen at fault, and she hated even more to be made fun of. She would have given a lot to just sent the Doctor on her way, but she couldn’t afford to. She gritted her teeth and attempted to be civil: “We’re quite finished, thank you. Osgood will update you on our last situation. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Nodding towards Osgood, Kate strode back towards the Tower and locked herself in her office. She had an email to write.


	3. Chapter 3

Bernie uttered a small cry and Serena looked up from her computer screen. For once they were both in the small AAU office at the same time.

“What is it, darling?”

Bernie stared at her own screen as if she was trying to see through it. Then she got up and went to lean on the wall: “It’s a blast from the past …one I could have done without.”

Serena was no stranger to “blasts from the past” – they had after all brought her a lovely but slightly eccentric nephew. From Bernie’s face, however, she could guess that the mail may have brought unwelcome news: “Want to tell me about it?”

“ Not now!” Bernie’s tone was sharp and Serena’s eyes got a wounded look. Seeing that, she hastened to apologise. “It’s just …of course I want to tell you about it – but not here, and not now. You know someone is going to barge in at any moment, and …I need a little time. Please don’t be mad at me!”

“No, of course I’m not mad at you. Dinner? Tonight?

  * My place?
  * No way! Your place is little more than a box with a bed inside!”



It was Bernie’s turn to look wounded, but she had to admit Serena was right. When she’d come back from Nairobi, a year after the opening of the trauma unit, she had not wanted to buy another house. Serena had wanted her to move in, but Bernie had convinced her that they needed their own space, at least for a while. After living apart for a year and a half, she didn’t feel ready for it. All those months of separation had not been easy on their relationship, and even now, two months after her return, she sometimes felt as if she was walking on eggshells. She tried very hard not to resent Serena for not joining her in Nairobi, and she knew Serena knew it, but that she also didn’t quite forgive Bernie for asking her to leave Jason, Greta, Guinevere and Holby in the first place. Not that there was anything to forgive, but … Anyway, she had moved into a rented studio flat, which she hadn’t had time or energy to personalise. Most of her furniture was still in storage, and she managed quite well with the basic and impersonal  pieces of furniture that had been provided with the flat. As for the kitchen, it held two hot plates which she barely used, a microwave and an electric kettle – more than enough for her own use, but certainly not ideal to cook gourmet dinner.

“All right – we’ll eat at your leafy detached… I’ll bring dessert.”

Several hours later, after a day of operations and paperwork, they were tucking in a pizza – even though Serena had every gadget possible in her kitchen, she hadn’t had time to cook. Over coffee afterwards, Bernie spilt out the whole story of her estrangement with Kate, ending up by the email: “And now – she has found me, and she wants to see me again…Urgently!

  * And you never met again, during all those years?
  * No …
  * You didn’t go to your father’s funeral?”



Although Serena hadn’t meant to, her last question had held an accusatory undertone.

“No…I wasn’t in England then – I was in Iraq…”

Bernie chewed on her lower lip -she thought back to when she’d heard about The Brig’s death – his former secretary had managed to contact her, and if she had really wanted to, she could have asked for leave and come back for the funeral. But Kate would have been there …And she hadn’t felt up to it. Over the years, she had regretted her behaviour towards Kate and thought about trying to see her twin again. Each time she’d broached the subject with Marcus, he had been dismissive and he’d reminded her that she had been the injured party, not Kate, and that she had no reason to try and mend fences…

However, everything had changed after the divorce – because once Marcus had heard about Alex, he’d tried to hurt her in any possible way. And one night, as he was ranting and raving about all her shortcomings as a wife and as a mother, he had let slip that it had all been a lie …that Kate had never come on to him – that he had only wanted to get rid of her, because he had been jealous of their proximity. After that, she had tried to find Kate, but it was as if she’d vanished into thin air. Maybe she had married…maybe she was using a new name – anyhow, she’d been impossible to trace.  And now, the email…

 “Are you going to answer?”

Bernie had almost forgotten Serena. She hesitated…

“Yes – I think I will. Even though she is probably mad at me – she has every right to.

  * Maybe – but she’s the one making contact.
  * Yes …
  * Family IS important, you know…
  * I’m all too aware of that, Serena!”



If Serena could have taken her last words back she would have – this was still a thorny subject between them. “I mean …if I could have met my half-sister …and well I know you have Cameron and Charlotte, but Kate is your twin…”

At the mention of Charlotte, Bernie’s face closed down: “Thank you for reminding me I have a daughter who wants nothing to do with me, Serena. Much appreciated!

  * Well, at least your daughter is alive!”



Bernie winced – those exchanges of barbs had become all too frequent since she’d come back to Holby, and the spats left them both winded and hurt. The slightest spark seemed to set them off. Sometimes they made up in the bedroom afterwards, but other times, like tonight, she chose to retreat in her lair to lick her wounds.

Kate wondered if she should have gone back home and changed. She’d come straight from her office to the bar where she had arranged to meet Berenice and her usual navy blue suit suddenly seemed too formal for a drink with her sister. Of course, she had no idea how she dressed nowadays, and even though she was usually well served by her fertile imagination, she had trouble picturing a typical “trauma surgeon – major” outfit – except for scrubs or fatigues, of course. She was just ordering a glass of wine when she saw her sister arrived. She had lost the habit of seeing a double of herself – unless of course the double was a Zygon shape-shifter – and she felt a pang in the abdomen. The woman who strode towards her was dressed much more casually than her, in jeans and a jumper, and she didn’t have much in common with the med student she used to be. Like hers, the mousy brown hair had been turned to blonde, and Berenice held herself straighter, her walk seemed more confident…More conquering.

“B…It’s been a while …

\- K …good to see you.”

Their childhood nicknames for each other flew out effortlessly, but after that the two women fell silent. After a minute or two, Bernie swallowed hard and spoke up: “Kate – I’m so …so sorry. I…tried to find you …to apologise …but …You’d disappeared and…I hope you’ll forgive me. When I read your email …”

As she saw Kate’s uncomprehending stare, Bernie realised that of course, her sister didn’t know and she hastened to explain: “He told me everything – Marcus – before the divorce. He told me about how he …”

She didn’t have to go further – Kate’s arms embraced her and the two sisters clung to each other fiercely. After that, they moved their conversation to a booth and talked their way through a bottle of wine. When Bernie saw it was almost midnight, she became serious: “So …Your mail – I gather you want something from me.”

Kate’s expression darkened: “Yes…I do – I’m not sure how much you know about what Dad used to do – his work with UNIT I mean…

  * Not much, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”



Kate proceeded to explain UNIT’s missions. She had to hand it to her twin, Bernie didn’t bat an eyelid when she talked about silurians, Daleks and co. Then she told her about their current situation, and ended up with: “So …that’s what I need your help for. I hope you don’t think I’m mad, and …I need your expertise.

  * I see …Why me though? I’m a trauma surgeon, not an internist.
  * Well …all this is classified, and that’s the first reason. The second reason is that curse …it rings a bell somehow. “Now is time to pay, for women in the home should stay, a hundred and twenty years away, death will come and stay”. I’ve heard that before, but when? And where?”



Bernie considered what Kate had just said. Finally, she snapped her fingers and grinned: “I’ve got it!

  * You have? Great – tell me, tell me…
  * Do you remember Granny Stewart?
  * Hmm …if you mean do I remember her scones, her cottage pie and her freezing house, yes, I do.”



Bernie punched Kate lightly in the arm: “Not that, you idiot! How does that help with your question? I meant – do you remember the stories she used to tell us? The family stories?

  * Yes …yes…I think I do …Some of them…
  * And do you remember why I – why we – wanted to become doctors?”



Kate rested her head on her folded hands and closed her eyes…This was something she had taken great care to forget after her expulsion. No one wants to remember shattered hopes and dreams. But now that her sister mentioned it …Of course she remembered. If the men of the family had favoured the army, they also descended from a dynasty of career women …beginning with their great-grand mother, Eleanor Bramwell. One of the rare female doctors of her times. Of Victorian times …Who had opened a clinic …In the East End of London.

“B, you’re a genius!

  * Nah …just a few good brain cells. No need to go overboard…
  * Anyway…Thanks! I think we’ve got a lead there…and I think …I think we need to go and see our great-grand-mother.”



This time Bernie did look at her as if she was crazy: “Maybe you should stop the wine, sis…”

Kate sighed, and proceeded to explain about the Doctor, the Tardis, and her plans…


	4. Chapter 4

Kate needed to be persuasive – if the new Doctor was as contrary as his predecessors, she would have a job persuading her to take her in the Tardis with her. Sighing, she summoned Osgood, asked her to call the Doctor back to the Tower, and prepared herself for an uncomfortable interview – she really hated to beg…

“It’s the only solution, Doctor, surely you can see that – we have to get to the root of the problem.

  * Well, maybe I can go and check out the situation by myself – I don’t need you to come.
  * Are you sure, Doctor? We would be going to an infirmary, you know …loads of needles.”



The Doctor shuddered involuntarily – Kate knew all about her phobia of needles.

“Yes – I’m sure – no need at all for you to come.”

They’d been talking for nearly an hour, and the Doctor hadn’t relented. Kate had expected her to be stubborn, but not that stubborn. She suspected that the younger woman did not quite have the hang of the machine yet and didn’t want any witnesses to that. However, she couldn’t waste any more time and decided to play her trump card.

“You know, Doctor, I can just requisition the Tardis…We don’t really need you to come…

  * Ha! You wouldn’t go far – you wouldn’t be able to use her – or even to make her start!
  * I might not be able to – but I’m sure Osgood could pilot her, after a fashion.
  * You don’t pilot the Tardis – you communicate with her.
  * Whatever! So …Am I going to have to do that?”



Finally, with much grumbling, the Doctor relented, and even offered the use of the Tardis’ costumes’ room...

“Do we really need to be here, Osgood? I really have other rather pressing matters to attend to…

  * If you want to travel back to the 1890s in jeans, Ma’am, it’s your choice, but …
  * Careful, Osgood – not in the mood!”



Kate sighed – she really shouldn’t bit Osgood’s head off  - the young woman had done nothing wrong. And she shouldn’t let her temper get the better of her either – she had been trained too well for that. However, she had been unsettled since reuniting with her sister, and if she was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that the idea of visiting Victorian England scared her a little…Well …A lot! Even though she’d been yearning to travel in the Tardis for years, now that the moment had come, it was a different story. When she’d talked about it with Bernie – just mentioned the possibility of time travel – she had seen her sister’s eyes widen in incredulity and concern. Thus, she’d let the matter drop – she had no idea how she would explain her findings to her when she came back …or if she came back. Of course, the Doctor had been time-travelling for years – centuries, even – but he – or she- wasn’t exactly human. Anything could happen. She comforted herself with the idea that he had taken several companions with him, and they’d all come back alive and well. The number of vaccines she’d had in the last two days wasn’t very reassuring either. Moreover, some of them were still in the experimental phase – the one for shigellosis, for instance, the bacterium responsible for diphteria – had not yet been approved for general use by the authorities. The plague vaccine only immunised her against Yersinia pestis, one type of plague, and the cholera vaccine wasn’t effective immediately. It would have to do...

Anyway, she couldn’t allow herself to fall into pieces – she had no time for that. She wished she could take Osgood with her, but her assistant had refused adamantly.  She could order her to come, but it wasn’t in her nature. She knew the younger woman would be terrified – she wasn’t a field operator, and time travelling was not part of her job description. So it would only be the Doctor and herself in the blue box…

“Try this one on, Ma’am – it should fit you.”

Osgood was holding a white woollen corset which looked more like an instrument of torture than like a garment. Kate hesitated and placing it on a stool, she turned her back to Osgood and began to unbutton her shirt, blushing furiously. Although she knew the younger woman was probably foraging in the hangers to find her a dress and not staring at her naked breasts, she suddenly felt very hot. Once she’d fastened it around herself, she felt a little better, although she had to adapt her breathing to the pressure on her ribcage. At least she was covered, if not completely comfortable. It wasn’t as bad as she’d expected – although tight, the corset also offered support. She slipped on a white petticoat and surveyed herself in the mirror, frowning – not quite the expected hour-glass figure, even with the help of the stays digging into her ribs, but it would have to do.

 When she turned round, Osgood offered her a blue satin dress, complete with bustle, full skirt and very low-cut neckline.

Kate raised her eyebrows: “Really? I’m going to the Victorian slums, not to a dinner party at the palace

\- For the evenings?

\- Just find me a skirt and a blouse – something sensible. Sturdy boots and a warm coat, too. There will be time to find evening clothes if I need them.”

Osgood dipped back in the wardrobe and emerged with a black skirt and a white high-necked blouse.

“Much better, thank you.”

Kate wasn’t overjoyed at the idea of wearing a dress, but she had no choice and no more time to play dress-up – the Doctor was waiting for her. When she came back into the Tardis’ control room, she found a diminutive but very dapper blonde gentleman waiting for her. The Doctor was wearing a severe dark frock coat and high-waist pants, with a red waistcoat and his iconic bowtie. She was juggling nonchalantly with a bowler hat. Kate experimented a brief moment of jealousy – maybe she should have worn men’s clothes too, but she thought she would have a better chance of getting close to Eleanor Bramwell as a woman.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Shall we?”

In a rare display of affection, Kate enclosed Osgood in a brief hug – the younger woman hugged her back and then, disengaging herself, reached for her inhaler. The Doctor watched them, a wry smile on her face: “If you’ve quite finished? You were the one in a hurry, Kate…”

Kate scowled and turned back towards Osgood: “I’m counting on you to monitor the situation here while I’m gone, Osgood – ask Colonel Shindi and Josh for help if necessary. I’ve alerted the Colonel, and he’s awaiting orders. I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to contact you from there, but if there’s an emergency, contact me through the time telegraph.

\- Yes Ma’am – don’t worry, we’ll manage quite well without you.”

When Osgood realised what she’d just said, she blushed bright red and stammered: “I’m so sorry, Ma’am – that’s not what I meant – well, it is, but …

\- I know what you meant, Osgood, don’t worry – UNIT will be in good hands, and I won’t be gone forever.”

Kate sobered and added: “And in case of …well, in case I don’t come back – my instructions are in the safe in my office – you know the code, don’t you?”

Osgood nodded.

“My sons will be notified by UNIT’s authorities, but …maybe you can try to contact them too? I …I’d appreciate that. And …I haven’t had time to add that in the papers, but if anything happens …my sister should know too.”

Seeing that Osgood appeared to be momentarily robbed of the power of speech, Kate squeezed the younger woman’s hand and pushed her towards the door.

“It’s time – let’s go!”


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re going to help her? Really? To do what exactly?

  * I can’t tell you, Serena – it’s classified information.”



Serena got up and carried the empty plates in the kitchen, slamming them on the counter. Once again the evening had begun well and had gradually deteriorated. Although Serena had been glad Bernie had reunited with Kate, she now seemed to resent their newly-restored complicity. Not that they had been in contact a lot since the first time after the email a week before – neither of them had time to spare. They exchanged mostly by text messages and had managed a quick Skype chat, but that was all. However, Bernie wanted to do her best for Kate – she was still trying to atone for not believing her all those years ago – and she spent all her free time perusing medical and psychiatric journals on the web, trying to find out what she could about blue-grey Victorian ghosts and the mysterious illness. This were so many fewer hours she could spend with Serena, and it didn’t leave them a lot of time to be together. Moreover, Bernie also cut back on her sleep and she looked exhausted, which exasperated Serena. Nothing irritated Serena more than Bernie neglecting to take care of herself. The fact that Kate had asked Bernie not to share the current situation with anyone did not help at all.

 

With a whirl and a thud and a wheeze and a few jerks and jolts they landed, apparently in one piece. Like with the holograph projector, Kate at first experienced the curious sensation of being at once in and out of her body – her head was spinning, and it took her a minute or two to find her earth legs. Once she felt more confident, she nodded towards the Doctor who was waiting for her, grinning, and they stepped out of the Tardis. The Doctor proprietarily seized Kate’s arm, and she almost jerked it away, not used to being touched or being led, but she refrained, as looking like a couple would probably make them less conspicuous in their new environment. They seemed to have landed in the right place, if she could judge by what she could see around her. London hadn’t changed that much in more than a century – although hygiene and lighting were much better, poverty was still as rife as ever, and pollution still covered the capital with a thick oppressive smog. Only people noticed both less now, because they had their eyes fixated on their phone screens. But in Victorian London, there was no escape from misery and lack of money. You probably got used to it, inured, but Kate had a renewed admiration for her ancestor who had chosen to work in the slums instead of having a cosy practice in Harley Street.  

She took a tentative step forward and grimaced as she walked into something squishy. There were bloodstains on her previously clean boots and lifting her head, she saw animal carcasses being loaded on a cart – of course, they had to land near the abattoir…

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you …I’ve got nothing of interest to you in there.”, Kate heard her companion say.

“What?

  * I wasn’t talking to you, Kate – I was talking to the kid who’d his hand in my pocket..
  * Oh …right.”



Of course, their attire singled them out as toffs, and it made them an easy prey for pickpockets, but at least it protected them somewhat from the freezing weather. It made Kate shiver just to look at the street urchins – one of the little girls, barefoot and wearing only a ragged cotton dress, was almost blue with cold. Others resorted to fuelling their insides with alcohol, and several men laid propped up against the grey stone walls deep in drunken stupors. As Kate looked all around her, her eyes fell on a metal board near a nondescript door “Thrift Street Infirmary” . Her heart began to beat a tattoo – she was going to meet her great-grand-mother. Thoughts of the situation in London, of blue ghosts and mysterious illnesses almost vanished from her mind – she shook her head slightly to refocus. The story she and Osgood had concocted was simple enough – she was a distant relation on Eleanor Bramwell’s mother’s side who’d been living in Europe, and was now back in England now that her husband was dead. He had left her money and she was ready to invest in the Thrift.

Kate took a deep breath and began to stride towards the door when she noticed the Doctor wasn’t at her side anymore. She finally espied her walking leisurely towards her, biting into something.

“Would you like a brandy ball, Kate?” she asked, proffering a small brown spherical cake.

“Err …no, I’m fine, thank you, Doctor.

  * You really should try one – they’re not bad at all – I was feeling a bit peckish, and it was either that or sheep trotters …I went for the sweet option.”



Kate made a face – the brandy might have killed the various germs and bacteria, but she’d rather not spend her time in Victorian London bent over with stomach cramps, even if her ancestor was a doctor. She tugged the Doctor by her sleeve: “Come on, unless you want to attract all the cutpurses of the area!”

She was going to knock on the door when the Doctor produced a cane and used the pommel to rap sharply on it. “I’ve always wanted to do that”, explained the Doctor airily. The door was opened by a young lad who looked at them inquiringly.  

“We’d like to see Dr. Bramwell, young man!” asked the Doctor imperiously.  The boy glanced back inside the infirmary and shrugged: “I’ll tell Nurse Carr – not sure Dr. Bramwell is free.” He did however step back to let them in, abandoning them in the hall. The Doctor found a newspaper lying on one of the benches and sat down with it, but Kate wasn’t in the mood for waiting. Snooping around, she saw what appeared to be the door to an office, and impulsively turned the knob. To eyes used to 21st century lighting, the windowless room appeared dark, and she blinked. A young brown-haired woman wearing a white pinafore over her dress sat at the desk, head in her hands. When she heard Kate come into the room, she murmured: “I’ll be with you shortly, Nurse Carr – just give me a moment.”

Almost as quietly, Kate replied: “It’s not Nurse Carr, Doctor Bramwell – I apologise for disturbing you.” Hearing the unfamiliar voice, the younger woman sat up and took off her hands to stare at the newcomer: “I’m sorry – forgive my rudeness – have we met?” As she spoke, she dabbed discreetly at her eyes, but Kate had had time to notice the red-rimmed eyes and the traces of tears. Kate politely averted her gaze to give the young doctor time to compose herself, and decided to help her out by introducing herself.

“As I said, I’m the one who has to apologise for barging in like that. My name is Kate Stewart, and although we’ve never met, I believe we’re related.” As Kate spun the tale she’d prepared with Osgood’s help, the brunette’s eyes stared at her wonderingly. Kate knew enough about their family tree to use real names and the whole story was convincing enough – more than the truth anyway. Moreover, Kate had no doubt that the young doctor could see what she had immediately noticed herself – a very strong family resemblance, which was probably better than any other argument. At the end of Kate’s little speech, Eleanor Bramwell looked a little thunderstruck, but a smile had crept on her tear-streaked face.

“Then I do have a living female relative on my mother’s side after all – you’re very welcome here, Mrs Stewart.

\- Please call me Kate.”

Eleanor blushed: “Oh but …I couldn’t – it wouldn’t be proper.” She could see that the blonde woman, although youthful in appearance, was at least two decades older than herself, and even if she was a relative, the use of the lady’s Christian name in such casual fashion would be most indecorous. Kate bit her lips – that had been stupid of her: “Would you like to call me Cousin Kate instead? We are after all distant cousins.”

The brunette looked relieved: “That would be most suitable, Cousin Kate – and you must call me Eleanor. Would you like a tour of the ward while I send Sydney to tell Father we have a guest?

\- Of course – that would be most interesting, Eleanor, thank you.”

They stepped out of the office and came face to face with the Doctor who’d been cooling her heels in the hall. Kate introduced him smoothly before she could say something outrageous to Eleanor : “This is the Doctor – he’s an old friend of my late…” She almost said “father” but caught herself just in time. “Husband. He didn’t want to let me travel all the way to London by myself and so he was kind enough to accompany me. He’s going to visit some friends now that I’ve found you, aren’t you, Doctor”, she said with a significant look.

The Doctor looked briefly startled and then nodded: “Yes, of course – Madame Vastra and Jenny are expecting me. You know how to find me, Mrs Stewart, right?

  * Yes, Doctor, I do.”



Kate wasn’t very sure of that, but she thought she could always use the era’s means of communication – a letter, or a calling card sent to Madame Vastra’s – if the more modern means failed. The Doctor turned towards Eleanor and bowed: “It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Bramwell. Pity it was so short a meeting. I do hope we meet again.”

Kate would cheerfully have smothered her – she didn’t need the Doctor to flirt with her ancestor – but she gritted her teeth and remained silent.


	6. Chapter 6

Kate was glad she’d had the foresight to bring a Gladstone bag with a change of clothes from the Tardis, because Eleanor insisted she stayed with her and her father for as long as she was in London. Kate couldn’t tell her that she wasn’t really planning on staying, but accepted her hospitality for the night. She met Eleanor’s father briefly, and he gave her the once over, but once again her story stood and the family resemblance worked in her favour – he had no qualms about inviting her to stay, even though he was otherwise engaged with his bride-to-be for the evening.

It wasn’t until later that night, after dinner, that she had time to settle down with Eleanor to have a chat.

As they were both sipping cocoa in the parlour, Kate began hesitantly: “You do not have to tell me, of course, but earlier today …when I met you at the Thrift …you seemed to be in distress.”  Kate almost chuckled as she realised she’d adapted her way of speech to the period. She was also aware that she needed to find out about the possible cause of the mysterious plague in 21st century London, but she also wanted to know more about her ancestor. The younger woman sighed: “It’s nothing, really, Cousin Eleanor. Just a moment of self-pity. As you may have understood, my father is going to re-marry again shortly and he wants me to give up the Thrift – my whole career even – and go and stay with him and his new bride in Kew. I do not mind being an old maid, but the idea of living under that woman’s roof is almost unbearable. I can see she makes my father happy and I am glad of it, but Mrs. Costigan and I have had our differences, and I cannot imagine it will not happen again… Cousin Kate, may I ask you something?

  * Yes, of course.
  * Do you think a marriage should be based on love? I mean …Did you love Mr. Stewart very much when you married him?”



Kate reddened – it was one thing inventing a charade to make her appearance believable but quite another to lie about feelings. Especially when one had never been married, and one’s sons’ fathers had both been huge mistakes.  And when the only Mr. Stewart was one’s father, the Brig, who hated not to be called by his grade. Misunderstanding the reason for Kate’s blushes, Eleanor put her hand over her mouth: “Oh, I’m sorry, Cousin. That was indelicate, please forgive me.

  * There is nothing to forgive, dear. I am just …not sure how I can give you an honest answer.”



Kate thought about Bernie – about how she’d trusted Marcus implicitly, blindly. To the detriment of anyone else. She went on: “I think a marriage should be based on mutual trust – and true friendship – on communication and empathy and …Being kindred spirits. Love is …part of all that.”

Eleanor remained quiet, obviously processing Kate’s answer. Kate hesitated and finally asked: “May I ask you why you want to know, Eleanor? Are you …Are you in love?” 

The younger woman sighed: “I thought I was …twice. The first man was suitable enough – Major Hyde …my father liked him, as they were both veterans. I thought I was in love then – or rather, I thought I could make myself fall in love with him. And I failed. As for …Finn…” Her voice faltered, and Kate heard the deep hurt behind the words. Eleanor swallowed hard and went on: “We were …engaged…and then – he went to America and came back with his bride. I felt …betrayed. Angry … He had his faults, but …he supported my work – he understood – or at least I thought he did. I am thirty years old, and still dependant on my father. If I go on working at the Thrift against his wishes, he will cut my allowance, and my only alternative will be to marry someone who will agree to a working wife.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

Eleanor sighed: “There is someone, but I do not love him…He is a good and kind man, but …” She stood up. “If you will excuse me, Cousin Kate – I have an operation to perform tomorrow morning, and I must try and get some sleep. If you need anything …”

“I don’t, thank you, Eleanor. Sleep well, and I will see you in the morning.”

The next morning, Kate was up bright and early. Time travelling gave a totally new meaning to jet lag …or maybe excitement had kept her awake. When she ventured downstairs, she found Eleanor having breakfast in the dining room. The young woman rose when she came into the room: “I apologise for beginning without you, Cousin Kate, but I have to be at the Thrift in half an hour, and …

  * Please don’t apologise – I’m not expecting you to change your routine for me. May I accompany you to the Thrift?
  * Of course – but I am afraid you will find it very dull.
  * Not at all. I’m sure I will enjoy seeing you work.”



 

And she did. Kate was no closer to understanding the origins of the curse, but observing the hustle and bustle at the Thrift was fascinating. During a lull, she shared a cup of tea with Eleanor and asked if it was always like that.

“Some days are quieter than others – we never know. Today is a busy day for me because Mr. Marsham is away visiting his children and I am the only doctor on the ward.” As she finished her sentence, Eleanor gulped the rest of her tea and rose, putting an end to the conversation. Kate couldn’t help noticing that the younger woman looked exhausted, with deep shadows under her eyes. She herself was no stranger to gruelling work days, but life and work in the 19th century, even with servants, presented whole new challenges.

The infirmary remained busy all day, and only quietened down in the early evening, when the women took their many children and went back home to cook their husbands’ suppers. The noise level had diminished considerably, and Kate was begin to hope the young doctor would be ready to go home soon. Eleanor was just pinning on her hat when a commotion was heard at the door and two men irrupted in the ward. The young porter tried to intervene but he was pushed roughly to the side. One of the men, older than the other, was carrying a young boy who laid limply in his arms, and the other one trained his pistol on Nurse Carr. The intruder deposited the boy gently on an empty bed and drew out a pistol as well, barking “Where’s the doctor?”

Eleanor abandoned her attempts at securing her hat on her untidy hair and hurried out into the ward, followed by Kate.

“I am the doctor – please put your weapons away and tell me what you want.” Neither men obeyed and the older one stepped closer and pointed the pistol towards her: “You don’t give me orders, Miss. You say you’re a doctor – phew – you’re just a chit of a girl, but I have no choice - you just do what I ask you to do – you save him – my son… If you don’t …there’ll be consequences.”

Eleanor wanted to protest but Kate put a hand on her arm and she swallowed her words and approached the bed where the boy laid. Kate’s brain was working frantically to find a way out of their predicament – she hadn’t dared bring her own weapon to the 19th century, and although she’d been trained in self-defence and krav maga, she would have to take on two armed and apparently desperate men in a ward full of patients, and that would probably not be a good idea.

Eleanor and Nurse Carr bent over the unconscious boy and removed his blood-stained clothing. The older man kept his pistol trained on them while the other had his on Kate. Eleanor’s hands shook slightly but Kate admired the younger woman’s self-control. The origin of the blood soon became apparent – it spurted from two bullet wounds, one on the boy’s abdomen and another one on the boy’s thigh. Eleanor turned towards the father: “I can’t do anything – the bullet – it perforated the femoral artery – it’s too late.”

The man growled and pressed his gun on Eleanor’s temple: “You don’t get to tell me that – you do something and you save him!”

“But I can’t! Your son is dying – he has lost too much blood – you should have taken better care of him in the first place, not used him in your nefarious enterprises!”

Eleanor knew that several gangs operated on the area and that the bosses trained children to pick pockets and break into houses. Those children were usually orphans, but for a gang leader to use his own child wouldn’t be unheard of. Keeping his pistol on her head, the man seized her arm and his fingers bore into her skin: “Keep your moral lessons for yourself and save him!”

Kate bit her lips – she tried to go to Eleanor but the other man pushed her roughly against the wall. “You stay here!”.

Eleanor bent once more on the boy, but his breathing had become very shallow and after a few gasps, he gave up the fight. Eleanor put her head to his mouth, but there had been no mistaking the laboured noises – the boy was dead. She straightened up and gently closed his eyes. The boy’s father pushed her aside and knelt at the side of the bed, pressing the boy’s body to him. Then, wild-eyed, he turned towards Eleanor: “You’ll pay for this – you, and your children, and your children’s children- a doctor – ha!” He slapped her so violently that she reeled and fell to the floor.  As he seized his son’s body, he exchanged a significant look with his cohort. The latter hissed: “Don’t move!” at Kate and backed up slowly towards the door, his pistol still pointing towards her. As the boy’s father reached the door, he nodded towards the other man.

Kate threw herself on Eleanor, forcing her to roll to the side as two bullets whizzed through the air. And then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

When Kate came to, she had a blinding headache and her eyes couldn’t focus. She tried to move but her body felt like lead. Persevering, she managed to lift half her right arm, but the pangs of pain that ensued sent her back into oblivion. The second time she opened her eyes, she felt a cool hand on her forehead, followed by a strong pungent penetrating smell and something on her face. She could hear people speaking but couldn’t make out the words. The third time she woke up, she saw she was lying on one of the wards’ beds, separated from the others by screens. As she painfully turned her head, she saw Eleanor dozing in a chair by her bedside. The young woman must have sensed she was awake for her eyes started open and she bent over Kate, smoothing the pillow.

“Cousin Kate – thank goodness! No – don’t try to move!”

Kate sighed and laid back against the pillow – she took a sip of the water Eleanor handed her and retched suddenly. She just had time to turn to her side and she threw up the contents of her mostly empty stomach in the basin lying on the floor. As she felt the bile burning its way up her throat, she realised they must have given her morphine. She was grateful for the pain relief, but morphine had always made her sick. She tried to concentrate on what Eleanor was saying: “You saved my life, Cousin – I can …I will never forget that.” Kate nearly quipped that it was a good thing she had, because otherwise she herself would not exist.

Eleanor went on: “I managed to take out the bullet in your arm, but the other one …It went very deep in your abdomen and …I thought taking it out would not be wise. Your fever is getting down now, which is a good sign, but…” She took Kate’s hand in hers and pressed it. “We’ve all been so worried. When you didn’t wake up, we thought …”

“How long have I been unconscious?” Now that she looked at her properly, Kate saw that Eleanor looked almost ill herself. huge dark shadows under her eyes and even though pale skin was a lady’s vanity, hers was almost transparent, especially in contrast to the purple bruise adorning her cheekbone. Rogue strands of hair escaped from her chignon and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for days.

“Almost two days, Cousin Kate. I will never forgive myself – never!”

“I’ll be fine, Eleanor. There is no need to worry about me,” murmured Kate. Although she tried to reassure the young doctor as well as she could, Kate was far from convinced of that. UNIT personnel were regularly vaccinated against a number of illnesses, and she had had a few more specific shots before this trip, but if the wounds became septic or if she caught an infection, her 21st century body did not have the same defences as the Victorians’. And she didn’t really fancy dying from gangrene or tetanus when she’d weathered gunshots…She had to contact the Doctor and to go back to the present. What was the name of the street she had shouted to the hansom driver before she got off to Madame Vastra’s? Kate searched her muddled brain for the answer. It was a rather outlandish name …Peppercorn? Paddington – no, French  or …Italian? Patisserie? Panna Cotta?  – no, that was her stomach talking – even though she still felt sick, she could also feel its emptiness. Paternoster! That was the name – Paternoster Row.

She was going to ask Eleanor to send someone to fetch the Doctor when she realised the younger woman was still talking. “She warned me and I did not listen – I was too young, but I remember now. And now …now it is too late.”

Kate fought the rising nausea and the headache and focused on Eleanor: “What are you talking about?” Eleanor stared at her hands and bit her lips, hesitating. Finally, she swallowed hard and went on: “You probably know my mother died when I was born. My father fought to keep me with him and he raised me with the help of a nanny – and later, governesses. When I was about five or six, Nanny Pat got suddenly sick – a fever of some sort. She had to go away for a time, and someone else came. That new nanny was …different – I do not know why my father employed her. She was …” Eleanor shuddered. Even though she was young then, she remembered those months of her life better than all the years with her other nanny. What she remembered most was that the woman could be as sweet as that newly-discovered substance, saccharine, when she wanted, and that she became all charm and graces in the presence of her father. Now she thought about it, she knew why she felt awkward in Mrs. Costigan’s presence – something about her reminded her of that evil nanny. Both short dark-haired women, with icy eyes. And so her father had had no idea that when she was left alone with Missy, the woman made her life hell. Missy …A name she would never forget. The woman had insisted on it, refusing to be called “nanny”. 6-years-old Eleanor had lisped a little, and “Missy” had come out as “Mithy” at first – until the woman had beaten her out of the habit. She’d also been swatted repeatedly for the smallest misdemeanours, like spilling food or dirtying her clothes. For major offences, she was locked in the old privy at the end of the garden for several hours. She was so terrified that she never even thought of telling her father.

Missy usually left every afternoon, leaving her alone, locked into her bedroom, but one day she had taken Eleanor with her. When they had reached their destination – a stuffy parlour hung with dark drapes and lit with a few flickering candles where a dozen women sat in a circle around a wooden board.  Missy had hissed at her to keep quiet and listen. After a long moment in silence in the grim airless room, one of the women had begun to shake and mumble – her hands had hovered over the board – later, Eleanor would understand it was a Ouija board – and the planchette had started to move – the words had come out haltingly: “Now - is -time - to pay, for women - in the home - should stay, a hundred - and twenty years - away, death - will come and - stay”. Startled and scared, Eleanor had cried out, which had earned her a sharp slap and broken up the séance. For days after that, Missy had repeated the rhyme to her before bedtime, a macabre lullaby guaranteed to keep her awake at night. The rhyme had remained engraved in her brain, and it was all coming back to her now. Missy had disappeared one day as suddenly as she had appeared and her reign of terror had mercifully ended, but the scars had remained. It had been a warning, and that warning had come to light again with the desperate man’s words.

“Eleanor?”

Eleanor realised that she had stopped talking while she had got lost in her thoughts. The mere memory of Missy had made her feel as helpless and terrified as when she was six. How could she explain to her cousin that she was the one who should have been lying there in the bed, or even that she should have been killed – because it was all her fault – she had been warned and she had ignored the warning. But she could not say anything to Kate, because her cousin would think her mad.

Kate looked at her with a worried expression – she could see that the young woman had something on her mind, and she would dearly love to know what, but apparently Eleanor wasn’t read to say anymore. Instead, the young doctor suggested to Kate that if she felt well enough to be moved, she would be more comfortable in her home. Kate sighed – although she was sure she would be well cared for at the Bramwells’, what she really wanted was to go back to her own tiny London flat, in her own time. As Eleanor went to order the carriage, Kate asked her to send a message to the Doctor. She wanted out!

She was soon installed in one of the guest bedrooms, with her namesake – the Bramwell’s maid-  hovering around to tend to her every need. Eleanor had also left the Thrift to her colleague’s care and had come home with her. Kate had to admit that the bed was more comfortable than the narrow hospital bunk at the Thrift, and the heat from the fireplace helped too. As she began to feel less feverish, her brain picked up speed and nearly got back to its usual level of functioning. She had to try and get Eleanor to elaborate on what she had begun to say. By dint of coaxing, Kate finally got the whole story out of her. An ordinary curse would have been bad enough, but Missy had woven such a twisted plot that the fly was well caught in the web, the fly being her ancestor. The plague wreaking havoc in 21st century London was not the result of the curse itself, but the consequence of Eleanor’s memories and ensuing guilt. Kate herself knew all too well how heavy survivor’s guilt could be. Each time a UNIT member died under her command, she felt sick with it. If she could not assuage Eleanor’s guilt, she would have to wipe her memory, and hopefully the curse would vanish. The only snag in this plan was that the memory wiper was currently safely kept in the Black Archive…

The boy Eleanor had sent to fetch the Doctor had come back with the message that she wasn’t there, but would come as soon as she could. After sending Eleanor to rest, Kate tried to go to sleep herself. She tossed and turned fitfully through the night, and when she woke up in the morning, she was again feverish and hallucinating. Or so she was told later, for she had no memories of it.


	8. Chapter 8

When Kate came to again, she was in a white bed in a white room with harsh neon lights glaring over her. Glancing at her surrounding, she ascertained that she was back in her time, probably in hospital for an IV in her wrist added an unwelcome burning and pulling sensation to her overall discomfort. A nurse peered through the door and came to her with a smile: “You’re awake – good, I’ll go and tell Ms. Wolfe!”

It took Kate a moment to remember that Ms. Wolfe was Bernie. Then she wondered how she’d come to the very hospital where her twin worked – and how she’d come back from Victorian England at all. Two minutes later, a stern-looking Bernie came into the room.

Kate managed a feeble grin: “Hi, sis! Good to see you.”

“Hi yourself. Care to explain what happened to you? And who the woman who brought you here was?”

Seeing Kate’s look of incomprehension, Bernie elaborated: “Youngish blonde, with an outlandish outfit – she just said you needed my help and disappeared.

\- Ah …yes, that would be the Doctor.

\- A Doctor? Surely you can do better than that, Kate – this is after all a hospital …quite a few of us around. 

\- Not “a” doctor – “the” Doctor; oh, never mind – when will I be able to get out of here?”

Bernie’s expression softened a smidgen: “Kate – you arrived here unconscious, with a raging fever. From the scars on your body, we managed to find the source of the infection – you had a bullet in your abdomen – it had penetrated your uterine membrane and the wound had become septic.”  She came closer to Kate’s bed and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her sister’s hand in hers: “Kate – you could have died- we nearly couldn’t save you, and at first none of the antibiotics worked.” They locked eyes mutely – neither of them into PDAs, this was as emotional as they would get. “So you’re not getting up just yet – not for a while.

\- But I need to check in with work. And with the Doctor. And with …”

Kate stopped – she’d nearly said “with Eleanor”, and she wasn’t sure her sister was ready for that yet. She had dealt well with the conversation about aliens and silurians, but she wasn’t sure if Bernie was ready to hear she’d travelled in time.

Bernie frowned: “And I probably won’t be able to stop you – but you won’t need to get out of bed for that. Just as long as you don’t overdo it. I think your work has come to you – we have a young woman in the family room, waiting for you.” For one crazy moment Kate imagined it was Eleanor, but Bernie went on: “She says her name is Osgood and you would want to see her asap.”

“Of course! Can you bring her here, please? And …Bernie – we have a lot to talk about – not right now, but soon. Just …I’m sorry. You didn’t need …all this” Kate said, waving her arm a little to point at herself and the room.”

“I know …Just don’t over do it, will you? I’d quite like you to get out of here alive – it’s bad for my reputation when my patients die.”

Kate threw her an evil grin and Bernie went out of the room smirking. She stopped by the family room to tell Osgood Kate was ready to see her and went back to the office she shared with Serena in AAU. The brunette was there and threw her an interrogating glance as she collapsed in a chair.

“How’s Kate?

\- She is - getting better.

\- Still not ready to talk about what and who brought her here?

\- No- she didn’t say anything.”

Serena looked into Bernie’s eyes: “And even if she had, you wouldn’t tell me, would you?”

Bernie dropped her glance: “I …I …No I wouldn’t say anything if she asked me not too.”

Serena muttered “Figures” and went back to her computer screen. Bernie concentrated on her hands – she really didn’t want to have to choose between her twin and her lover.

 

The news Osgood had brought Kate weren’t good – the scientists still had not managed to identify the true nature of the illness decimating part of the East End and people were still seeing ghosts and dying. This did not actually come as a surprise to Kate, for if she had found out the origins of the epidemic, she still had done nothing to thwart it. For that, she had to go back. With the memory wiper. She had to get out of that hospital bed.

Kate’s second visitor that day was the Doctor. Even without her Victorian garb and in her usual attire, the young woman attracted curious glances in the wards, and was several times mistaken for one of the clowns that sometimes came to entertain the sick children. She sat by Kate’s bedside and proceeded to sip a fluffy syrupy coffee concoction while listening to her.

“So you see, Doctor, I’m very grateful you got me out of there – and I’d quite like to know how you managed, but I have to get back. It’s the only way.

  * Absolutely not, Kate.
  * I’m sorry?
  * I said “absolutely not” – I am not taking you back – for goodness’ sake, Kate, you almost died! And I had to go through a whole rigmarole to get you out of there. Once was enough, thank you very much!
  * But …If I don’t go back – it will all have been for nothing!”



Kate couldn’t hide her distress – it was bad enough when she faced a problem to which they had no solution, but it was even worse when she was inches from the solution and couldn’t implement it. Meanwhile, people were dying on her watch, and her ancestor was suffering. She knew Eleanor must be racked by guilt. She couldn’t do anything about her marriage prospects or her dependency to her father, but she could at least try and undo the psychological damage Missy had done to her.

“Doctor, please! Surely you can see I have to!”

Kate could feel the tears welling up, and she swallowed furiously to keep them at bay – she didn’t cry – she was the Chief Executive Officer of UNIT, for God’s sake! She didn’t cry, and she didn’t beg – even a pig-headed Time Lord. Her distress must have echoed in her body, for one of the monitors still hooked to her beeped furiously, which made a nurse go and get Bernie.  She took one look at Kate and the Doctor and scowled: “I thought I told you not to exert yourself!”

“You know me, B. – never very good at taking orders…

  * It’s your choice, K. – not that we have too many spare beds, but I can keep you here as long as I want to.”



It was Kate’s turn to scowl: “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Just try me…”

The Doctor tutted: “Children, children …when you’ve finished squabbling …I thought you had a deadly plague to stop?

  * Yes, I have – but you won’t let me!
  * Come on, Kate – I just said I didn’t want you to go back.
  * Then I can’t do anything!
  * Just send someone in your place, then …
  * And who exactly do you propose I send?”



The Doctor glanced meaningfully at Bernie. Kate caught the direction of his eyes and immediately shook her head and immediately regretted it as it sent waves of pain inside her brain.

“Oh no …No way! You’re not taking my sister in your Tardis.”

“I think it should be her choice, Kate.”

Bernie was looking at them bemusedly: “Anyone care to tell me what it’s all about?” Kate sighed and turned towards the Doctor: “Can you give us a minute?” The young woman nodded and left the room. Then Kate turned to Bernie: “I think you should sit down – I’ve got a story to tell you.” She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and launched into a narrative of her literal trip down memory lane.

Thirty minutes later, Bernie was half in shock and half excited – a third half would have been terrified …Kate looked at her expectantly: “So? Will you do it? There’s no one else I can trust – and obviously, Eleanor had already met me, so she won’t notice it isn’t me – I mean you aren’t me.

  * Why does any of us has to go? Why don’t you ask your Doctor to go instead?”



Kate sighed – her sister was right – she should just ask the Doctor, and not endanger Bernie’s life. But somehow, something told her that it was a family thing. Moreover, she had to admit to herself that she didn’t quite trust the Doctor to do the right thing – not that she would do the wrong thing on purpose …just that she – or at least her previous incarnations – had a reputation for being mavericks, and Kate felt very protective towards Eleanor. The fact that she had seen the Doctor flirting with the young doctor with her own eyes did not reassure her.

Bernie was thinking furiously too – she believed Kate’s story – the Brig had talked about the Doctor and his Tardis, and she had already made the mistake of not believing her sister once, she wouldn’t do the same mistake again. She was not overjoyed at the idea of entrusting her life to a seemingly ditzy blonde wearing suspenders and ballooning trousers, but after all, surely it couldn’t be worse that Kabul or Iraq…

“I’ll do it”

The two other women looked at Bernie expectantly.

“I’ll go – just give me a day to find someone to take over my surgeries.” And to explain to my partner, Bernie added to herself silently. There was no way she could tell Serena about that. She would have to lie, and she wasn’t the best liar. Serena usually saw right through her. She decided on a half-truth – she would tell Serena she had to go on a mission instead of Kate. The fewer details the better.

Of course Serena wasn’t satisfied with that, and she sulked during the whole evening. As Bernie’s stress mounted, she tried to cuddle closer to her lover, but Serena moved away to sit at the other end of the couch. The guilt Bernie felt at not telling her the whole truth made her illogically angry, and she had to swallow back a nasty retort. Finally, she got up and went to get her coat. She would rather sit in silence in her own flat than be subjected to Serena’s disapproving glance. She hated to leave like this, though. She wouldn’t see Serena again before leaving for …the 19th century – when she said it, even to herself, it made her feel slightly sick – at least when she’d gone to a war zone, she’d been prepared – trained. She briefly thought that she hadn’t amended her will since her divorce. And then she scolded herself for always thinking about the worst possible outcomes. When she saw that Serena had made no move to follow her, she hesitated in the hall. When she had left for her various deployments, she’d made it a rule never to leave angry. She wasn’t going to a war-torn country, but… Making up her mind, she walked back to the living room – Serena appeared riveted by the commercials on tv. Bernie knelt on the floor in front of her and seized her hands in hers. Lifting her eyes to try and catch Serena’s, she murmured: “Whatever happens, darling – I love you – always and forever.” Not waiting for an answer, she scrambled up and almost ran to the door. She didn’t start the car immediately, though, and only five minutes afterwards, when Serena had not appeared in the doorway did she rest her forehead on the driving wheel and swallowed hard several times before driving away.


	9. Chapter 9

When the next morning Bernie stepped in the Tardis which the Doctor had landed in a remote corner of Holby Hospital carpark, it all felt surreal. Kate had told her as much as she could about the discussions she and Eleanor had had, and she had explained how to use the memory wiper. Bernie had found clothes in the Tardis wardrobe – the dresses Kate had worn had been left behind at the Bramwell’s and she felt as ready as she ever would.

When the Tardis touched down near the Thrift, Bernie told the Doctor wryly that she had had smoother landings with army choppers. Then she took a deep breath and stepped out, followed by the Doctor.

“This shouldn’t take long, Major – just send for me at Madame Vastra’s when you’re done. Good luck!

“What ?! You’re just leaving me here?”

The Doctor grinned sheepishly: “Err – yes. You see, when I got Kate out, I may just have made myself persona non grata here…”

Bernie glared at her: “Explain! Now!”

“Well – I couldn’t very well just spirit her out of the house. So when I got the message and I saw the state your sister was in, I decided the best way was to rant against the way my old friend’s wife had been treated and to say I was taking her out of that dreadful place to have her properly seen to. Not that far from the truth, but …I may have been a little …forceful and …borderline rude. I doubt the doctor or her father would want to see me again.”

Bernie heaved a prolonged sigh: “And you were going to let me go in there without those little details …

  * I’m sure you’ll manage, Major. Ta-ta !”



On that, the Doctor pressed a little velvet purse in Bernie’s hand and disappeared in the crowd. When she inspected its content, she saw it contained a few gold sovereigns and shillings. As she was about to knock at the door, it opened and a hand shoved a dishevelled urchin outside. The hand belonged to a man with a strong Scottish accent, who yelled: “And don’t come back, you little guttersnipe!” Peering behind the Scot, Bernie espied a scowling brown-haired young woman standing with crossed arms in the middle of the hall. She guessed this must be her ancestor – and they seemed to share a hot temper…Spotting her, the man stepped back and apologised: “Mrs Stewart! I apologise, I did not see you there. Please come in.”

As she heard Dr. Marsham’s words, Eleanor gasped and came forward: “Cousin Kate! Thank God ! I thought …I thought you were dead! I was so worried! Your …friend…said he knew how to heal you but …!”

Bernie didn’t miss the brief hesitation before the word “friend”, and mindful of what the Doctor had told her, she immediately tried to apologise for the blonde’s ill-mannered behaviour. She explained that her husband’s old friend was sometimes prone to unreasonable bouts of temper due to an illness he had caught abroad and expressed her regrets that the Bramwells had been subjected to the Doctor’s rudeness. Eleanor ensured her her only concern at the time had been her health and told her she was extremely relieved to see her well. 

Pushing her luck, Bernie went on: “As soon as I was well able to, I made arrangements to leave his house. He told me a little of how he had behaved towards you and your father, and I did not feel I could remain under his roof much longer. My husband had inherited a small property in Gloucestershire, and he left it to me in his will. I will go and retire there, but for tonight I find myself in transit. I was going to ask you if I could go back to your home with you and reclaim the few items he neglected to take when he – abducted me. Then I will find an hotel for the night.”

She didn’t have time to finish – Eleanor replied that she wouldn’t hear of it – she was to come home with her.

“I cannot possibly impose on your hospitality, my dear.”

“I would be most offended if you did not, Cousin Kate. Surely you would not wish that? It is no imposition at all – your old room is waiting for you, and my father and I are used to having guests.

Then Eleanor added she had something to tell “Kate’. Intrigued, Bernie tried to press her further, but the younger woman did not want to discuss whatever she had to said in the carriage.

 

Once again, it was not until after supper, when the two women had left Eleanor’s father to his port and pipe and retired to the parlour, that Eleanor confided in “Kate”: “Cousin Kate, do you remember the…”

Eleanor blushed. “What I asked you about marriage?” Bernie nodded. Kate had told her about that conversation, and even though she felt guilty at the deception, she had to keep pretending to be Kate.  Eleanor went on: “The good man I told you about …well …He proposed, and …I accepted. He is a widower, with three little girls – I will be able to be a mother to them, and I hope to make him a good wife. He will let me go on with my work at the Thrift, and I will not have to move in with my father and his new wife…Actually…You have met him – it is Mr. Marsham.”

Bernie was thankful her years as a doctor had schooled her in hiding her emotions, for she found it difficult to remain poker-faced at the news. She couldn’t see that union work – from what she’d seen of the man, he reminded her of Marcus – basically not a bad person, but intransigent, short-tempered and rather self-centred. She was well out of it, but there would be no escape for her ancestor – divorce would not be an option.

“Mr. Marsham? Well, it would certainly be …” She searched for the right word.

“A marriage of convenience? Yes, Cousin Kate, I am aware of that. But if I wait any longer …” Eleanor bit her lips: “You see, I am no longer young and …” As she said that, she drew her knees closer and encircled them with her arms, abandoning the perfect rigid posture she adopted in company. Like that, she looked like an 8 years-old playing dress-up in lady’s clothes.

“And you want children…” Bernie finished the sentence for her. Eleanor nodded mutely. Bernie came closer and put a hand on the younger woman’s shoulder.

“I am sure you will make the right choice, Eleanor – just – give yourself a little time? Your father’s wedding was only last week – surely you can wait a little before accepting Mr. Marsham’s offer?

\- You think I am a fool, don’t you, Cousin Kate? I haven’t told anyone yet, but I know what people will say – that I am stubborn and wilful, that I am only marrying him to annoy my father, that he is not of my class …”

 

Bernie could see that Eleanor was fighting the tears and regretted her words – the younger woman wasn’t stupid – of course she had understood Bernie was less than enthusiastic about the match. Eleanor stood up abruptly: “Will you excuse me, please, Cousin? I must see to a few domestic matters before going to bed. Good-night.”

“Good night, Eleanor – I am sorry if I distressed you.”

Eleanor offered her a sad smile and murmured: “You did not – I did that by myself”.

Bernie changed into the nightdress which had been left on her bed, but she did not go to sleep. Luckily for her, her bedroom was next door to Eleanor’s, with her father’s bedroom on the floor below. At about two o’clock in the morning, she foraged in the large pockets of her coat and extracted a small electric torch and the memory wiper. Then she crept noiselessly towards Eleanor’s bedroom – another skill for which she could thank her Army training – and turned the doorknob. It creaked a little but although Eleanor turned in her bed, she did not wake up. She adjusted the memory wiper to the right setting – targeting the year Missy had been Eleanor’s governess and aimed it at Eleanor’s head. A silent zap, and she went back to her room, the wiper concealed in her bed jacket.

The next morning, at breakfast, Bernie told Eleanor she had to take her train, and promised she would write and visit.  She wondered if maybe Kate knew a way to send letters to the 19th century. The guilt she felt about lying was not alleviated by the knowledge she couldn’t do otherwise. The expression in the younger woman’s eyes reminded her of a stray puppy, and she hated to leave like that, but she had no choice. She had to get back.

Eleanor had offered her carriage, and Bernie let herself be taken to the station, where she alighted, waited a few minutes until the Bramwells’ driver disappeared and hailed a hansom to take her to Paternoster Row. She was half-expecting the Doctor to have disappeared, but she was there, having a leisurely breakfast with Madame Vastra and Jenny. Now that she had completed her mission, Bernie was eager to leave, but she had to accept a cup of tea and wait for the Doctor to finish her toast.


	10. Epilogue

The Tardis landing back in 21st century Holby was as bumpy as it had been in Victorian London. Bernie felt a little light-headed and thought briefly that time-travel and its effects would be a great research topic – only trouble was that she would be carted away to the nearest psych ward if she ever mentioned her experience to anyone. She changed back into jeans and a shirt and wondered who to go and see first – Kate or Serena. With a sigh, she decided that an epidemic should probably take precedence over everything else, even though her relationship with Serena was on the rocks. When she arrived in Kate’s room, she saw that her sister had regained a little colour and was no longer on an IV. She had her computer on her lap and was talking on the phone. Seeing Bernie, she hung up and turned towards her sister with shining eyes: “You did it! The epidemic is abating! Numbers this morning have dwindled considerably – we’re hoping it will stop completely in the next few days.” Her expression darkened: “I wish we could save the people who are already infected but not yet dead.”

“I don’t think we can, K., I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about – you’re a doctor, you know that sometimes …there’s nothing to do. And you did the most important thing. So …what did you think about our great-grand-mother?”

Bernie sobered up: “I think she is a lovely young woman who’s going to make a big mistake.” She told Kate about Mr. Marsham’s proposal. Kate grimaced: “Agreed. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Seems choosing the wrong men runs in the family.”

Bernie didn’t have time to reply – a brunette woman came into Kate’s room and made straight for Bernie.

“Never ever say things like that and disappear, Bernie – never!” And Serena threw her arms around Bernie and kissed her violently on the lips. When the latter came up for air, she managed to gasp: “You mean, I should never tell you I love you?”

Serena swatted Bernie on the arm: “Don’t play dumb! You left, and your phone was switched off, and you weren’t at work, nor at your flat! You worried me to death! I was afraid you …”

In turn, Bernie stopped Serena’s words by a kiss. “I love you, Serena Wendy Campbell- and I wouldn’t do that.”

Then she turned sheepishly towards Kate who was watching them incredulously: “K. – I didn’t get a chance to tell you …this is my girlfriend and partner, Serena Campbell.”

Once Kate had recovered from her surprise, she observed in her habitual wry tone: “Very pleased to meet you, Ms Campbell. I would say that I’ve heard a lot about you, but …” Then, grinning at Bernie, she added: “Well, sis, it seems you managed to reverse the family curse indeed!  In more ways than one! A poet said that only by acceptance of one’s past can one alter it. Good for you! This is quite an alteration!”

 


End file.
